Till Death Do Us Part
by Grape-King
Summary: An assassin shouldn't fall in love with his victim. So why is Lovino different?
1. Prologue

Antonio sat down in the dark room, and remembered why he hated silence. It made him venerable, scared even. He waited a bit, the small light illuminating the room. His boss had a new mission for him, and he was excited. He hadn't had a mission since the accident.

"Antonio Carriedo. Agent 407. Welcome." A new man stepped into the room, dressed in a suit similar to his own. The man sat a brief case down onto the metal table and opened it, taking out some papers. "As you know, we have a mission for you, if you choose to accept it."

"I do," Antonio stated, trying to stifle the laugh that came. It sounded like he was at a wedding, getting married. Missions could be seen as weddings, however. It's a pact between people, a promise that you must keep. A regret that some people may have.

The man smiled slightly and handed the Spaniard a folder. He quickly took it and opened it, looking at the picture of the young man. He looked at the mans name, age, and workplace. Lovino Vargas, 19, the Vargas fashion company. Well, holy shit, Antonio thought. He'd been on missions where he had to assassinate well known people, but not this well known.

"He's still in college. I will enroll you in the same classes as him, and you will be in the same dorm room as him." The man laughed as he thought about a billionaire in college. Antonio chuckled as well. "You'll have further instructions in a week." The man got up then, taking his brief case, and left.

Antonio waited for a moment, still seated at the table. He closed the folder, and just sat. The Spaniard remembered how he got into this ring, how his family were hitmen, how he was suppose to take up the family business. He remembered how he cried when he realized he'd have to actually kill people.

Then, he got up and left.


	2. Chapter 1

Lovino walked to his class; his knap sack on his side. Two men followed far behind him; they were his body guards. Since he was the owner of a well-known company and went to school, he needed to be protected. Antonio knew this, so he approached the boy.

"Hi, I'm Antonio!" He smiled brightly, and Lovino scoffed.

"Goodbye, jackass," Lovino replied and sped up. Antonio just sped up with him. The men behind them grew more conscious of the situation, and began to follow closer.

"You don't have to be like that," Antonio laughed, scratching the back of his head. "What's your name?"

"If I tell you my name will you go away?" Lovino asked, suddenly stopping.

"Maybe."

"Ugh, I'm Lovino. Happy now?" Lovino almost shouted, and Antonio nodded his head. Then, he checked his watch. Antonio's smile turned to one of worry and he started to walk.

"If we don't go now, we'll be late!" He yelled over his shoulder, and chuckled as he heard a groan from the Italian.

After showing up late and missing the first five minutes of class, they finally sat down next to each other. Arthur, their teacher for the day, was unimpressed by their lateness and gave an entire Lecter about it. Romano wanted to die. He literally prayed to whatever god there was, asking them to just kill him.

Antonio just sat quietly, and did as he was told. Took notes, made some acquaintances, and made sure that neither of the men was suspicious of him. But of course they were, there was a new student out of nowhere, talking to their client. They would eventually question him, he knew. He'd been through this a hundred times, so Antonio would know exactly what to say.

" _I just wanted a friend, y'know? He looked pretty cool, and I guess I wanted to talk with him first. Wait, who are you guys?"_

That question usually made them stop questioning, and they'd just label him as _okay._ But Antonio was not okay. He was not even close.

After another hour or so, the class finally ended and everyone began to pack up. Everyone except for Lovino.

The small man sat idly in his seat, watching as everyone soon left. Antonio stayed with him, packing up only when he packed up.

"Why did you wait so long?" Antonio gave Lovino a questioning look, and the younger man sighed.

"I have social anxiety, I hate crowds. So I wait until everyone else leaves so I can leave." Antonio nodded in understanding, and they both left.

After two more classes and a lunch break, they were finally allowed to go home. Antonio was impressed. He'd never gone to college, seeing as his job was a hitman and it didn't really require a degree for killing. However, it did require him to learn how to fight and use a gun and blah blah blah. Antonio could remember how he was shouted at to get the punch right, how his knuckles were bruised and blistered and how he cried at night because he didn't want this. He never did.

The two men entered their cars and drove home. Lovino drove with the two men following behind him in their own car. He had asked this because it just felt odd to have two men quietly sitting in the back of your car just staring at you.

Antonio drove in complete silence, wondering about when he'd do it. If he became Lovino's friend, then he'd have a better chance of looking innocent. He didn't want to do this. But it paid the bills and put a roof over his head. A roof he knew would soon collapse.


	3. Chapter 2

Antonio lay in his bed, eyes closed, peacefully asleep. Except for the small noises he made. He always had nightmares from his past, his childhood spitting in his face. The Spaniard regularly had night terrors and usually experienced sleep paralysis with them, but childhood memories were different. These struck more fear into him than any monster could.

 _"_ _Antonio, you're going to be like your father one day," His grandfather said. Antonio, who was only nine at the time, smiled brightly. His dad was the good guy, his superhero. His grandfather's face got darker at this moment._

 _At age eleven, they though Antonio was old enough to start training. But he found other interests, like the guitar and dancing. His parents told him it was a waste of time and money for lessons, and threw his guitar out. Antonio cried for days and nights as he thought about his broken guitar, how he'd never be able to learn._

 _The first lesson was that of strength. All he had to do was build muscle, and that was pretty easy. Weights and tracks were all Antonio saw for a month, and by the end, he looked like a body builder. The second lesson was fighting._

 _His feet flew as he jumped, punching whoever his father asked. He remembered when he broke someone's bone for the first time. It was their arm, and he had twisted it enough for the bone to just snap. His father applauded him as he stared at the white bone protruding from the skin. Antonio left to throw up._

 _The third was the most horrifying one. At fifteen, he was finally taught to kill. His instructor, a friend of his fathers, taught him where the most important blood veins were, and Antonio cried when his father ordered him to kill someone._

 _The boy was an orphan. Antonio's father "adopted" him, but he had no family. No body to really miss him. Antonio wished he could've known the boy's name as he sliced his throat, blood immediately falling onto his hand. The boy's cries were loud as he held his throat, trying to hold back the blood and just breathe. Antonio cried as he watched, guilt falling over him. Now, he learned to just go numb when killing someone._

Antonio cried in his sleep, his voice echoing through his room. Tears stained the pillows as he gripped them, unable to wake up from this hell; the hell that his father put him in, this hell that he _never_ wanted to join.

In another part of town, Lovino sat on his bed, awake. The house was quiet, except for the small pants he created. He hoped that everyone was asleep as his bed made small noises from the movements he created. Pictures of Antonio, the man he met that day, fell into his mind as he touched himself.

He felt so gross even thinking Antonio's name, let alone picturing him in his mind. He soon finished, and grabbed the small box of tissues to stop the mess. Lovino laid down, his hands above the covers like his grandfather taught him.


End file.
